May 1910, Paris

Adrianne Montclair had been missing for several months. One evening, she simply failed to return home and Marguerite never saw her again. She knew, deep down, that Adrianne might never come back. As days turned into weeks, a creeping paranoia began to shadow her every step. When she walked home at night from the fat man's pub, she noticed suspicious men following her. Whether these were figments of her imagination or real threats, she couldn't tell. But one thing was clear: it was time for Marguerite to leave Paris.

One day, she packed her bag—a single suitcase, the only one she owned. At the bottom, she carefully placed Adrianne's stolen jewelry. Around her neck, she clasped a heart-shaped pendant.

Early in the morning, she made her way to the train station and bought a one-way ticket to Monte Carlo. Why Monte Carlo? It was a coastal town. Summer was approaching, and while coastal towns tended to shut down for the season, there was still enough bustle to find some work and survive. More importantly, it was far from Paris. Marguerite knew no one would look for her there. She couldn't leave the country because she didn't have any sort of documentation with her. Two years prior she ran away from home, with nothing but the clothes on her back and a heart pendant around her neck.

Marguerite boarded the train at Gare de Lyon. Ahead of her lay a journey of over 12 hours. She watched through the window as the train sliced through the heart of France, passing the verdant hills of Burgundy and the sprawling vineyards of the Rhone Valley.

Then, suddenly, she saw it. The endless blue sea. It appeared and disappeared right into the horizon. It whispered just one word - La Liberté.

Marguerite disembarked in the city center. She hadn't planned what to do after this point. The options seemed as open as they were limited. She knew she needed to find a small apartment and any kind of job eventually, but there was no rush. She had enough money to last a month. She wandered through the city and eventually ended up at the beach.

Slipping off her shoes, she approached the edge of the water. The water was cold, a refreshing shock to the system. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, filling the lungs with the salty air.

It was a rare moment of peace.

"What now?" she asked herself.

A young boy appeared, no older than twelve, with tousled brown hair and curious brown eyes.

"You need to follow me now," he simply said.

"What?" Marguerite asked, confused.

"You need to follow me," he repeated.

"I won't do such a thing!"

Without another word, the boy picked up her suitcase and started walking away.

"Hey, little thief, stop! Give me back my suitcase!"

"I'm not stealing the suitcase, Mademoiselle. I'm carrying it because I'm a gentleman. A gentleman's duty is to be considerate towards a lady."

Marguerite followed him. She was intrigued because the boy was keeping to the beach instead of heading towards the town. Being near the water provided her with a sense of safety, and curiosity eventually won over. The boy led her to a private beach flanked by rocks on either side, ensuring privacy. It was clearly the property of a wealthy individual.

"Gideon Duval is expecting you." The boy said.

Soon, the host appeared, an elderly gentleman around 60 years of age, looking well and healthy for his age. He was dressed in beige shorts, a white shirt, and a hat, sporting gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard.

A shiver passed through Marguerite. She could guess what he might want from her. But if she was being completely honest with herself, she had come to Monte Carlo with the idea of finding an affluent older man, though she hadn't expected him to be this old.

"Ah, ma chérie, you have arrived," the gentleman said as he approached to greet her. "You are very beautiful. Even more so than the stories suggested."

The confusion on her face was evident, so he said, "I'll explain everything. Come, let's have some cold lemonade. You must be tired from your journey. Armand, take the lady's suitcase to her room."

"Excuse me? What room? I'm not planning to stay here. I don't even know who you are."

"I'll explain everything if you give me a chance," the gentleman replied, gesturing towards the house.

They settled on the shaded terrace, and the lemonade was served, sweet and refreshing.

"Do not worry about the jewelry in your suitcase. It is yours, and no one will take it from you," the man assured her.

"How did you know?"

"My dear, forgive the mystery. I will explain everything. My name is Gideon Duval. My mother was German, and my father was a French nobleman. Hence the name and this house. I have two talents, you see: trading in jewelry and recognizing talent early on. When two striking young ladies started making trouble in Paris, I couldn't help but pay attention. I instructed my people to follow you and keep me informed. I must say I was very impressed."

Marguerite could feel a cold sweat break out on her face. "Did you kill Adrianne?"

"No. She was killed by my rivals, so to speak. She was too raw, too impulsive. She lacked the caution and moderation that I see in you."

This turn of events was not what Marguerite had expected. At the same time, she felt an overwhelming sense of danger, knowing she needed to tread carefully with every word and every move. Yet, strangely, there was also an undercurrent of security, the source of which she couldn't quite identify.

Gideon continued, "My people informed me that you boarded a train to Monte Carlo, so I instructed Armand to find you and bring you here."

Marguerite asked. "What do you want from me exactly?"

"I'd like to propose a partnership," Gideon replied.

Marguerite's expression soured at the suggestion. Gideon noticed this and chuckled.

"No, not that kind of partnership. Though you are a strikingly beautiful lady, there is no doubt about that. The time for courting ladies has long passed for me. I'm offering a business partnership."

"I don't understand," Marguerite said, her guard still up. "What sort of business? I'm not desperate enough to agree to just anything."

"You're far from desperate," Gideon reassured her. "I told you, I have a talent for spotting talent. And I see enormous potential in you. But this potential is worthless unless it is cultivated. That's what I'm offering you. You can stay here for free, have your own room, with access to fine clothes, jewelry, and other luxuries. In return, I want an opportunity to mold you."

"To mold me?" Marguerite echoed.

"Yes, to train and shape you as I see fit. I want you to become the greatest jewel thief this world has ever seen."